


(My Dear) You Are Setting Fire to Me

by clarkesbellmy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, mention of suicide, this was supposed to be fluffy but it turned really angsty i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3726406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkesbellmy/pseuds/clarkesbellmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something had possessed her (probably the champagne) but she wanted to know the way her name sounded rolling from his mouth.</p><p>“Clarke.”</p><p>He said it on a sigh and it sounded like sin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(My Dear) You Are Setting Fire to Me

Clarke was using about 80% of her willpower to prevent herself from grabbing the skirts of her crimson Elie Saab dress, kicking off her ridiculously sparkly Louboutin heels, and running like her damn life depended on it. The remaining 20% was being used to stop her eyes from rolling into the back of her head every time her mother introduced her to someone "important".

 

She was currently being carted around the large ballroom in the centre of their house. (Yeah...she thought it was stupid too. Honestly, Clarke was pretty sure Jasper and Monty’s entire apartment could fit in here with room to spare for Raven’s bachelor.) Her mother had her arm looped jovially around Clarke's and was showing off her beautiful, accomplished, following in the family footsteps, pre-med daughter to anyone and everyone who would listen. And since it was Abby’s party, anyone and everyone kind of had to.

 

Abby had thrown this little party for Clarke (well, Clarke thought "little" was about the biggest understatement of the century) so she could meet people. Clarke already knew enough people thank you very much, she didn’t need to meet yet another stuffy perverted old business man.

 

So as she listened to yet another of her mother's colleagues drone on about the opportunities awaiting Clarke's future -“The best medical school in the country, Clarke!”- she discretely glanced around for her friend. Her very _late_ friend.

 

Clarke had agreed to this party on one condition; she could invite someone. Abby had only agreed because she knew her daughter, and if Clarke said she wasn't coming without a friend, she wasn't coming without a friend.

 

She had asked Raven immediately, even though she already knew the answer and her mother had prohibited _“Ms. Reyes”_ from ever setting foot in their house when they had people over again. The last time Raven had attended one of her family's parties her father's old boss had been sent to the hospital. Raven didn't appreciate being touched without her express permission, and when the handshake had turned into something more akin to groping, she had responded... _accordingly_.

 

And since bringing any boys within 50 feet of her mother warranted an interrogation followed by questions of betrothment, (Jasper would never be the same again) that left Clarke with only one option.

 

"Clarke!"

 

She smiled despite herself, she did love this option. There was no mistaking Octavia Blake. From her dramatic entrance to her loud enthusiasm to her eye catching gold sequined dress, she couldn't be anyone else.

 

Clarke smirked triumphantly as her mother tensed when Octavia started waving frantically over the crowd of people. Within seconds, the younger girl was in front of them and hugging Clarke.

 

"Oh my _god_ , Clarke you look amazing!" She squealed as she pulled away. "I'm so glad you invited me this is going to be so much fun!"

 

Clarke was about to respond when she saw movement from the doorway over her friend's shoulder.

 

Quickly excusing herself from her mother, she dragged Octavia into an abandoned corner.

 

"What is he doing here?" She hissed under her breath.

 

Octavia looked slightly sheepish, which was impressive considering Octavia never felt bad about anything.

 

"He gave me a ride," she said by way of explanation.

 

Clarke raised an eyebrow.

 

Octavia returned the gesture. "It's a two hour drive, Clarke! I wasn't going to send him home just to turn around and come back."

 

Clarke sighed because logically, she knew this. Emotionally, however...

 

Octavia gave her a look of false sympathy. "I know you don't like him, but you don't like anyone else at this party either so what difference does it make?"

 

She couldn't help herself, Clarke laughed.

 

Two hours later she had managed to avoid any and all contact with the elder Blake but she had also unfortunately lost the younger one about 20 minutes ago. It was while she was looking for her, that she (quite literally) ran into him.

 

"I'm so sorry," she said before she realized whom she was talking to, then she scowled, briefly thanking every higher power that she hadn’t been holding a drink.

 

"Hello to you too, Princess."

 

Clarke was about to open her mouth to tell him for about the thousandth time to _not call her that_ when she noticed Octavia sitting on the floor behind him.

 

He followed her gaze.

 

"Yeah, she had a bit too much fun..." He swiped at his nose with his thumb like he did whenever he was uncomfortable and looked back at Clarke.

 

"Is there anywhere I can take her for a little while?"

 

Clarke nodded in response. "You can put her in my room, maybe she'll sleep it off."

 

Without another word she turned on her (still annoyingly sparkly) heel and made her way to the foyer and up the stairs. She turned around halfway up the stairs when Octavia started struggling, watching with suppressed amusement as Bellamy finally gave up and swept her into his arms, trudging up the rest of the stairs while his sister giggled.

 

When they reached her room Clarke opened the door and tried not to feel embarrassed by the excessive grandeur of it. She had been to the apartment the Blake siblings shared and while she honestly preferred their cozy two bedroom to her overly impractical house, she knew it often made people uncomfortable. Usually that person ended up being her, if she was being honest with herself.

 

She watched Bellamy lay Octavia gently on the bed and take off her shoes before finally managing to get the squirming girl under the blankets. Octavia immediately sighed from the warmth and comfort and Clarke was pretty sure she had already fallen asleep.

 

She felt a small pang in her chest as she watched him brush Octavia's bangs away from her eyes and tuck the comforter tighter around her shoulders. Feeling tears welling up -no doubt from the champagne, she told herself- Clarke walked briskly across the room and opened the doors to her balcony, stepping out into the cool night air.

 

Her bare arms were immediately graced with thousands of tiny goosebumps but Clarke didn't mind, she welcomed the distraction. Bracing her hands on the cold stone railing she took a deep breath of September air and closed her eyes.

 

She had expected Bellamy to leave, so when she heard the glass doors shut quietly behind her she was surprised. Clarke glanced at him and realized he looked unfairly good in his tux (like seriously, who looks like that?) as he leaned against the railing, arms crossed and facing the door.

 

"You okay?" He questioned tentatively.

 

Clarke was 1000% sure he wouldn't have asked her that were he not at least slightly tipsy.

 

"Why do you care?"

 

He didn't respond so Clarke looked at him. He was staring at her with an unreadable expression -he did that sometimes, it drove her mad-.

 

"I'm fine..." She sighed. "I was just thinking about my dad."

 

Clarke saw him nod from the corner of her eye but he still didn't say anything.

 

"It's just...these parties used to be fun. I used to go around dancing with him and laughing and when I fell asleep he'd carry me back here and tuck me in." She didn't know why she was saying these things to him but she continued anyway. "He's been gone for a few years so I'm pretty used to it now I guess, but sometimes it just hits me hard that I'm never going to see him again."

 

Bellamy cleared his throat softly and finally spoke.

 

"Our mother died when Octavia was little. I'm not-I don't know how much she's told you."

 

Clarke looked at him in surprise before responding quietly.

 

"Not much."

 

He nodded. "She was...in a bad place for a long time. Octavia probably doesn't remember but there were times where days would go by without us seeing her. I still don’t know what she was doing -I don’t think I want to know- but I took care of O the best I could. I fed her and got her to school on time and as soon as I was old enough to get a job I started providing for her. She deserved someone to do that for her…”

 

He took a deep breath and when he spoke again, his voice was gravelly and low.

 

“When I was fifteen I found my mother on the bathroom floor next to an empty bottle of pills.”

 

Clarke gasped softly and thought about reaching a hand out to him, but his arms were still crossed.

 

Bellamy touched his nose again, scrunching his face a little.

 

“Octavia wasn’t home from school yet so I called the police and waited for her outside. She never saw her, I made sure of that but she was old enough to ask questions. We stayed in foster care for about a year, the system...sucks. It’s a fucking train wreck, they don’t care about you they just want you to get out of their way. I somehow managed to keep us together until I had enough money to buy an apartment.

 

I always...resented my mother for that. I hated her for leaving us, leaving me in charge. I was just a stupid kid, I barely kept Octavia with me, I almost lost her one day when a couple wanted to foster her and god knows what would have happened to her. I was just always so angry at her because it was her _job_ to keep us safe and she just up and left. Then I was mad at myself for being mad because she must have been in a lot of pain for a long time to do that to herself...to _us_ …”

 

He trailed off and Clarke thought he might be trying not to cry.

 

“Bellamy…” she said, and _fuck it_ , she touched his hand where it peaked out from his folded arms.

 

He didn’t flinch exactly, but he stiffened for a moment before relaxing again.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “You were talking about your dad and I just-”

 

“Hey,” Clarke interrupted, gently squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, it’s actually kind of nice to know someone else understands...I mean it’s horrible that that happened to you though I didn’t mean…”

 

Clarke decided that shutting her mouth was probably her best course of action at the moment.

 

Bellamy didn’t acknowledge her little outburst, but he tilted his head to the side and studied her for a moment.

 

“I always thought you were some spoiled little rich girl who didn’t know anything about the way real life works.”

 

Clarke just stared at him.

 

“Now I think you’re a spoiled little rich girl who’s much less shallow than I gave you credit for.”

 

Clarke removed her hand from his to slap him in the arm with a small laugh.

 

“Hey!” He said it playfully, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “That was a compliment.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “In what universe is “spoiled little rich girl” a compliment?”

 

“Just stating facts, Princess. You’re a girl, you’re rich, judging by that dress and those shoes you’re quite spoiled, and let’s face it, you’re pretty little.”

 

He chuckled as she stood straighter, but even in her nearly 5in heels the top of her head still only reached his nose. It was however, a step up from the shoulder she usually had eye contact with.

 

“Yeah, well I always thought you were an obnoxious, self-righteous prat.”

 

“And now?”

 

“You’re still an obnoxious, self-righteous prat.” She said with a completely straight face.

 

Bellamy put a hand on his heart. “You wound me, Princess.”

 

“Why don’t you ever call me Clarke?” She asked suddenly.

 

He closed his eyes just a little longer than was necessary to blink before he responded, his eyes darkening.

 

“Do you want me to?”

 

Clarke didn’t say anything, she didn’t know why she’d asked in the first place. Something had possessed her (probably the champagne) but she wanted to know the way her name sounded rolling from his mouth.

 

Bellamy turned his body towards her so he was no longer facing the doors and stepped impossibly closer. She hadn’t even realized how close they had been in the first place, but now he was almost touching her.

 

“Clarke.”

 

He said it on a sigh and it sounded like sin.

 

“Yes?”

 

As soon as she said it Clarke wanted to jump off the balcony. _Honestly, what the hell was that?_ Nice one, Clarke, very articulate.

 

She had a moment to watch his lips quirk in amusement before he kissed her.

 

Clarke honestly didn't know what the hell was going on and she didn't care. She told herself it was the rebelliousness she liked, making out with a boy on her balcony while her mother was downstairs at the party she’d thrown for her, completely oblivious. But honestly, Bellamy was just _that good_.

 

His right hand was cupping her face, his fingers curled around her ear and into her hair and his other hand was splayed against the small of her back, pressing her closer. Clarke had one hand against his chest, gripping his jacket in a fist and she distantly felt badly for wrinkling the obviously expensive suit. Her other hand was wrapped around his shoulders and her fingers were playing with the small curls at the nape of his neck.

 

He bit her lip and she gasped, feeling him smile against her mouth as his tongue danced with hers.

 

She let out a small whimper when Bellamy pulled away.

 

“You’re cold,” he said as though he hadn't just kissed her senseless.

 

Clarke stared at him as though he had just suggested she run away and join the circus with him because she honestly had no idea what he was talking about. She was anything but cold at the moment.

 

She watched in silence while he took off his (now wrinkled) jacket and held it out for her. Obediently, Clarke stepped into it, letting her arms through the oversized sleeves. The cuffs came down to the tips of her fingers.

 

She turned back around and stared at him again. There was _no way_ she was talking first. This had been _his_ idea, _he’d_ kissed _her_.

 

Bellamy smirked.

 

“Cat got your tongue, Princess?”

 

_No, but you did._

 

She wanted to say that but her brain didn’t seem to be fully functional yet so the command never reached her vocal cords.

 

He reached out and tucked a wayward strand of golden curls behind her ear and let the tips of his fingers linger on her cheek. _What was happening?_

 

“You kissed me,” she finally said.

 

Bellamy’s eyes danced with laughter.

 

“Ah, so you did notice, then. I was starting to worry.”

 

 _How was he so calm right now?!_ Clarke was pretty sure she was about 7 seconds past the point of spontaneous combustion.

 

“Why did you do that?”

 

“I wanted to,” he said absently, watching his hand as his fingers traced her jaw.

 

Clarke thought she was going to die she wanted to kiss him so bad so she said the stupidest thing she’d ever said in her life.

 

“Do it again.”

 

Her heart raced when he shot his eyes up to hers and she swallowed as they darkened again.

 

He was rougher this time, grabbing and yanking her towards him, crashing her body into his. Her arms wound around his neck and she pulled his head down so she could reach him better. Bellamy’s hands were tight fists behind her, one in the fabric of her dress, under his jacket, and the other in her hair as he attacked her mouth. His hands roamed with his lips as he trailed kisses down her jaw and neck and Clarke honestly wasn’t sure if she was still breathing. She didn’t care either, if she died right now, she’d drag him straight to Hell with her and kiss him in the burning flames.

  
(Maybe getting involved with Bellamy Blake was the stupidest thing she’d ever done, but four months later when she woke up wrapped in his sheets, Clarke wasn’t so sure.)

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY wow so this is my first oneshot I don't know what possessed me to write this but here we are. If any of you actually care, there are links in my bio of Clarke's dress and shoes and Octavia's dress. (I just find it really helpful when you can fully visualize a scene)
> 
> I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me know what you think about this, reviews are my crack and feedback makes me a better writer


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